Bull
Dog Square looked cold and cheerless on the morning of Thanksgiving
day. A restless northwest wind picked up the dust and scattered it
broadcast in blinding clouds. The great shoe string mill and the dye
works were shut down. All the stores — those squalid little Jew
clothing stores — were closed, and Mammy Yates, having sold out her
dozen morning papers, put the blinds before the windows of her atomic
emporium and drifted away with the wind to her daughter's house for a
holiday. The rum shops, however, kept open, in hopes that some poor
devils would be found so unfortunate as to have no happier place to
go to and would come to them with their small offerings of silver and
celebrate the day in inebriety. To the credit of Bull Dog Square
there were few of these miserables, and the lazy, fat faced
bartenders stood gazing out sadly through the half closed windows of
their ill smelling haunts.

There
was plenty of cold and hunger in the neighborhood of the Square on
this day proclaimed by the President as a day of special thanksgiving
to God for the bountiful harvest and the peace and prosperity of the
land. People are always hungry there, for while they eat, they are
seldom well fed, and the winds have years ago discovered how to spin
through the houses.

But
in the home of the Willipers there was warmth and good cheer, while a
smashing big turkey was fast taking on a ripe brown in the pan where
he roasted. This turkey, the nuts, raisins, pop-corn, candy and other
good things which were in evidence on the sideboard, had been
purchased with the ten dollars the stern looking lady at the Pier had
given Williper Mere, to be spent on what Little Jack liked best in
the world.

Williper
Pere sat in shirt sleeves by the window, industriously trying to work
a steel-ring puzzle which he had bought for Little Jack, and which in
a fatal moment of idleness he had picked up with the intention of
showing his son just how the man had shown him it was done.

Williper
Mere had manifested much interest in watching him at first, even to
the neglect of the turkey; so had Little Jack, but they gave it up
with a sigh after a while. He continued alone, squeezing, twisting,
turning the rings which looked so innocent, but which couldn't be
prevailed upon to go together.

Mamie
Kelley, the beautiful weaver, received, as we already know, a special
invitation, and had come over early. She had endeavored to assist
Williper Mere in getting dinner ready, but had been squelched in the
following words: —

"Now,
you go and sit down, Mamie. I won't have you raise your hand. It's
tired you must be, workin' always as you do, and I just want you to
enjoy yourself an' rest."

This
suited Little Jack, and he inveigled her over by his window, where he
sat with his trusty crutches at his side.

"You
come here, Mamie," he said, "and I'll tell you about the
finest king I've come across so far."

The
girl seated herself quietly beside him and took one of his wasted
hands in hers.

"Go
ahead, Jacky," she said. "Tell me all about him."

Little
Jack's eyes sparkled. It was not often that he had the pleasure of
telling a story to any one but his parents, and they never seemed to
understand the way Mamie did.

"This
king," he began, "was first of all the bravest knight in
the world. He was tall and very strong, and when he had his armor on
he would sail in and whip a dozen or more common knights without much
trouble. His name was Richard Cure the Lion."

"That's
a funny name," Mamie said, showing genuine interest.

"Well,
you bet they had funny names in those days," Little Jack
returned. "They only had first names, and tacked on whatever was
their specialty. This king's name was just Richard, but people added
'Cure the Lion,' which the book said meant strong-hearted, or with
the heart of a lion. That's where the lion comes in. Anyhow, he was a
great fighter, and just after he got to be king he went to the Holy
Land on the crusades."

"What
were they? — something to ride on?"

"No,
I don't think they was. I don't know just what they was. Anyway, he
rode a horse part of the way and went by boat the rest."

"Perhaps
Crusades ' was the name of the boat."

"Now
I never thought of that," Little Jack exclaimed. "It might
be so. But come to think, it couldn't be a boat. I believe it was a
journey, for other kings went on crusades all by land. Well, as I was
telling you, he went to the Holy Land to drive the Turks away from
Jerusalem."

Mamie
Kelley burst into a ringing laugh and Williper Pere chuckled over his
puzzle. Little Jack, however, proceeded seriously:

"You
see, Mamie, the Turks had driven all the Jews from Jerusalem, or a
good part of them, and occupied the Holy Sepulchre."

"What!
— lived in the grave?" Mamie inquired, quizzingly.

"Now
don't get funny," Little Jack retorted. "I just tell you as
the story runs. The book says 'occupied the Holy Sepulchre,' and what
it means you can guess as well as I can. So Richard Cure the Lion
came along to drive them out. They had a king, the Turks had, named
Salladin, and he was a dandy. None of the crusaders had been able to
beat him till Richard Cure the Lion came along, and even Richard had
a hard time to get the best of him. This Salladin found out after a
bit that it was just tempting Providence to send his best fighters
against Richard in the open field, for he would cut them up in short
order; so he made a scheme to capture the English king. He had a very
beautiful black horse that followed him about just like a dog, and
would never be happy away from him. So Salladin sent this horse to
Richard as a present."

"I
don't think much of him for that," Mamie exclaimed.

"You
just wait and see how it comes out," Little Jack retorted.

Mamie
looked properly squelched, and the cripple continued: "Richard
was tickled to death to get the horse, for he had never seen such a
glorious creature before, and the next day he must try him in the
battle. So he rode him out as proud as could be, but when the horse
got the lay of the land he bolted for the camp of the Turks, just as
Salladin knew he would, and Richard couldn't hold him back. He yanked
on the bit, but it was no use, and he saw that he would be captured
sure if he didn't do something quick. So he slid to the ground just
as the horse reached the first regiment of Turks, and prepared to
fight them all alone. They came at him right and left, but he laid
about him with his battle axe, and every time he struck there was one
less Turk. My! how he did wallop them! He was all covered with blood
and sweat when his own knights came to his rescue, and he couldn't
have held out much longer."

"Say!
He was a daisy, that Richard, wasn't he?" Mamie said. "That's
the kind of a man for me. I could just have loved that man."

"But
he was a king, remember," said Little Jack.

"Well,
supposing he was," the girl retorted. "If I had been living
in those days I would have been a queen, perhaps. They didn't care so
much then about being poor. If a man was strong and brave and a woman
beautiful, that was all that was required."

Little
Jack eyed his fair companion proudly.

"I
wish vou was a queen, Mamie," he said. "By Jimminy! I do.
Say! Them knights would have all been dead in love with you, and
they'd have made you Queen of Youth and Beauty ' at the tournament."

"What
was that, Jacky?"

"That
was the biggest time of all. Every little while, when the knights had
nobody to fight, they held a tournament. They had a grand-stand just
like a baseball field, where all the ladies and the old men sat.
Then, whoever gave the tournament, selected the finest looking girl
in the country 'round and made her 'Queen of Youth and Beauty.' She
was to award the prize to the best knight.

"Then
the knights fought on horseback before this grand-stand, and the one
that disabled all the others would kneel before the Queen of Youth
and Beauty,' and she would place on his head the wreath of flowers,
which was the prize."

"And
did they fight just for that?"

"You
bet they did, and sometimes half of them was killed."

"Those
were the men for me!" Mamie exclaimed emphatically, and her eyes
sparkled. "If I had been the 'Queen of Youth and Beauty,' and a
fine, young knight, after risking his life, had come to me claiming
the prize, I'd a kissed him slap before all the people, just to show
how proud I was of him. There ain't no such men now. Mill help and
dry goods clerks are all I know, and a silly lot they are. There
isn't one of them man enough to fight unless he is in liquor, and
instead of fighting for a woman, they stand on the street corners and
make remarks. Oh, I hate them!"

"Ivanhoe
is the fellow you'd a been stuck on," Little Jack said, with a
solemn shake of his head. He was Richard Cure the Lion's bosom
friend, and was always looking for a damsel in distress, that he
might fight for her. Irish or Swede, it didn't matter to him, so long
as she hadn't any friends."

"Was
he as good a man as King Richard?" Mamie asked.

"Well,
he wasn't so strong. The king was a mighty powerful man, but Ivanhoe
could lick anything of his size between England and the Holy Land. I
tell you, I do like to read about him, 'specially when he fought
O'Brian Gilbert for the Jewess Rebecca."

"I
shouldn't a thought he'd a fought for a Sheeny," Mamie said,
with typical Smith Hill contempt for the children of the Ghetto.

"They
didn't call 'em Sheenies then," Little Jack continued seriously,
"though perhaps they ought to, for Rebecca's father was a
regular out and outer. His name was Isaac, and he was always sneaking
around and wringing his hands just like a Sheeny at a rag sale. But
Rebecca was a lady, and she was as pretty as a picture, too."

"That
accounts for it," Mamie put in with vigor. "Had she been
homely your brave Ivanhoe wouldn't have crossed the square for her.
They'll all make a bluff at fighting for a good-looking girl, be she
Sheeny or Mulatto; but if her face is plain, just watch 'em jump the
fence!"

"Well,
you know better than I do," Little Jack shrewdly suggested, and
then continued: "Ivanhoe never asked for rewards, anyhow, and
when he whipped O'Brian Gilbert, he never made any motion for
thanks."

"But
what became of Rebecca? " Mamie asked.

"Now
that's a puzzler," Little Jack replied. She just dropped out of
sight, but between me and you, I think she'd a had Ivanhoe had he
asked her."

"I've
got it at last, by gravy!" came in a triumphant voice from the
chair near the window, and turning, they saw Williper Pere holding
aloft the puzzle, the rings securely interlocked.

"Well,
you're a fool to spend your whole morning working over a silly thing
like that," Williper Mere said with emphasis.

"But
you see," her worthy husband replied with conviction, "I
started it and I just couldn't give it up till I done it."

Dinner
was now on the table, and the party fell to. I was just going to say,
"Never was there such a turkey!" when I thought of Dickens.
Isn't it too bad that he said all the good things and the rest of us
must go 'round the lighthouse for an expression!

Anyhow,
Little Jack was very happy, and Williper Pere ate a very great deal.
Williper Mere smiled tirelessly and poured tea, while Mamie described
the wonderful agility of the King of the Bounding Wire, whom she had
seen at Keith's the preceding week.

"If
I ever grow to be a man," Little Jack said with conviction, "I
don't know which I'd rather be — a king or that fellow. What a man
he must be!"

"You're
a crazy-head," Williper Mere said fondly. "But he wouldn't
be the man for me. A feller jumpin' up an' down on a wire! Pshaw!
Give me the man as makes his two dollars a day regular an' brings it
home to his wife. He's good enough for such poor old bodies as I be."

"But
what if he only makes a dollar and seventy-five cents?" Williper
Pere asked, with a twinkle in his eye.

"Well,"
his wife replied slowly, "there are dollar-and-seventy-five-cent
men and dollar-and-seventy-five-cent men. But don't you bother no
trouble, Henry. I ain't thinkin' of applyin' for divorce."